


The Lying Pair

by Inner_Devil



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Burn the heart out of you, Gen, Lies, Made Up Stories, Redbeard dies, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 00:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12243750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inner_Devil/pseuds/Inner_Devil
Summary: What if what Eurus told Sherlock in Series Four wasn't really completely true? What if some bits were and some weren't? What better way to burn the heart out of him than to make everyone, including Sherlock, believe he was absolutely mad? That even some of the childhood memories he held closest were all lies?





	1. Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> This is my interpretation of the events of Series Four, since a lot of it doesn't seem to fit. Hope you enjoy it!

Eurus wanted to play. That was all she ever really wanted, to play with her older brothers. But Mycroft played boring games and said she was too messy and overactive. So she tried playing with Sherlock, who was much closer to her own age. But he didn't like her games either. She wanted to play airplanes, but all he wanted to do was play pirates with their Irish Setter, Redbeard, and the neighbor boy, Victor Trevor. Coincidentally, Victor also liked being called Redbeard when they played pirates. Sherlock was Yellowbeard.

The Trevor family owned a country home for when they needed a holiday, just like the Holmes family. The two families were usually in the country around the same time, so Sherlock and Victor became fast friends, often excluding Eurus. The little girl hated this, playing by herself and thinking up ways to punish them for ignoring her. She was a bright girl and very creative, but usually stuck to drawing pictures of her family like a "normal kid". Redbeard was almost always absent from her pictures while Sherlock often ended up being scribbled out of the pictures in bright red crayon or marker. Her resentment only continued to grow, much to her parents' dismay. They had no idea why their daughter was so angry and could never get a straight answer from her.

Finally, the day came that Eurus made a friend. He was a funny little Irish boy whose family had just moved to London. He and Eurus went to school together and quickly became friends, learning everything they could together. But things seemed to change when she invited her new friend to spend the upcoming school holiday with her and her family in the country.

From the moment Jim was introduced to the Holmes brothers, he seemed to be hooked. He asked questions about them and watched them constantly, which infuriated Eurus. He was supposed to be  _ **HER**_ friend! Jim began to take notice though, seeing how much she seemed to hate her brothers. This could be to his advantage, he decided. Perhaps she would help him 'play' with her brothers, especially Sherlock.

It was around midsummer when tragedy stuck for the curly-haired Holmes boy, and Eurus took advantage of it to torment him endlessly. The first thing that upset young Sherlock was when his pirate buddy disappeared. Well, not really. What actually happened was that the Trevor family had decided to sell their country house and, due to this, wasn't there that summer. But all Sherlock knew was that his friend was missing. His parents dismissed it, which only added to his anguish. It seemed only his canine companion would listen. Even in his old age, Redbeard was constantly with Sherlock and was akin to a security blanket for him. Unfortunately, Redbeard's age would take its toll.

During one summer afternoon, Sherlock and Redbeard were playing near a pond by an old beech tree, pretending to sail the seven seas, when suddenly Sherlock fell in. He had some basic swimming skills that helped to keep him afloat, but there was no way he could pull himself back out of the pond. As he shouted for help, Redbeard faithfully dove in after him. Grabbing Sherlock by the collar of his shirt, Redbeard managed to pull him to the edge of the pond and help push him out. Sherlock struggled to catch his breath for a moment before realizing that Redbeard hadn't come out with him. His beloved dog was still in the pond and would drown if someone didn't save him.

"Mummy! Daddy!" the boy cried, tears streaming down his cheeks as he knelt by the edge of the pond and reached for Redbeard.

His parents came running, not even noticing that Eurus was right there. She'd been watching Sherlock play from behind the tree and might've had a hand in him falling in. But Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were concerned with Sherlock, pulling him away from the water. Mr. Holmes tried reaching to grab the dog only to receive whimpers and howls of pain. So they called someone else in to come rescue Redbeard while they got Sherlock away from the water so he wouldn't have to see the dog suffer. 

Eurus stayed behind though, running when she saw the men coming to get the dog. She managed to distract them for a bit, taking the long way to show them where the pond was. When they finally arrived, Redbeard was weak and sinking in the water, nearly unable to keep himself afloat any longer. As the men dragged him from the pond and tried to keep him alive, blocking Eurus's view to her frustration as she tried to examine him herself. The Irish Setter was taken to the nearest animal hospital while one of the men stayed behind to tell the family what was happening. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes gave their permission for Redbeard to be put down if he was suffering too much, knowing they would have to sooner or later. And overnight, Sherlock's worst nightmare came true. He lost his best friend. Word came that morning that Redbeard was dead.

The children were all sat down together as their parents shared the news. Redbeard was gone. As intelligent as the Holmes children were, there was still some confusion. Eurus, of course, knew exactly what had happened and showed little if any emotion. Mycroft understood a bit as well, knowing they meant the dog was most likely dead. But Sherlock was grieving and confused, jumping from his seat and rushing outside in his yellow rain boots and pirate hat, wooden sword in hand.

"Redbeard!" he shouted, assuming his friend was simply missing, like Victor. His family followed him and his parents eventually managed to stop him.

"Sweetheart," Mrs. Holmes clarified gently, one hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Redbeard.....he was very old. He didn't make it. The vet did everything possible, but we had to have him put to sleep so he wouldn't hurt anymore. I'm so sorry, love. But.....he died."

She figured that telling Sherlock his pet was put to sleep peacefully was better than saying "he died trying to save you". Even still, Sherlock was inconsolable for weeks. He cried day and night, especially when Eurus began to taunt him. She started calling his beloved pet "Drowned Redbeard", leading her brothers to believe that Redbeard had died in the pond rather than at the vet's office like their parents had said. As if Sherlock thinking he had been his best friend's cause of death wasn't bad enough, Eurus came up with a puzzling rhyme that she sang whenever their parents couldn't hear her.

_I that am lost; oh, who will find me?_

_Deep down below the old beech tree?_

_Help succor me now, the East Winds blow._

_Sixteen by six, brother and under we go._

___

_Without your love, he'll be gone before._

_Save pity for strangers, show love the door._

_My soul seeks the shade of my willow bloom._

_Inside brother mine,_

_let Death make a room._

_-_

_Be not afraid to walk in the shade._

_Save one, save all, come try!_

_My steps - five by seven._

_Life is closer to Heaven._

_Look down, with dark gaze, from on high._

_-_

_Before he was gone - right back over my hill._

_Who now will find him?_

_Why, nobody will._

_Doom shall I bring him, I that am queen._

_Lost forever, nine by nineteen._

-

The nonsensical rhyme drove Sherlock mad, causing him to search all over the property for his friend. Even Mycroft began to believe that Eurus had been involved somehow in Redbeard's death. Had she drowned the dog? No one had been paying much attention to her during the whole ordeal. The Holmes family began to become more tense around her and her parents worried more and more. That only increased when she was found with a scalpel, cutting away at her skin layer by layer. Her parents ripped it away and began applying pressure to the wound on her arm. As Mrs. Holmes called the emergency line, Mr. Holmes asked why she did it.

"I wanted to see how my muscles worked," she answered quite simply. 

Eurus was rushed to the A&E to receive stitches in her arm, which irritated her greatly because it ruined her research. Due to her behavior, both past and present, she was sent to the psych ward for observation. While she was there, Uncle Rudy came to visit.

"She's been getting worse then?" he asked, standing outside the room with Mycroft.

"She claimed responsibility for Redbeard's death, terrorized Sherlock, has shown nothing but animosity towards him, refuses to acknowledge any positive emotions, and now this," the young boy answered as he looked in on his sister.

Rudolph Holmes nodded and sighed. "She can't go on like this. She'll kill someone properly if she goes unchecked. She needs to be somewhere secure," he decided.

"Mummy wouldn't let you take her away," Mycroft pointed out.

"I have to," Rudy told him firmly. "I'm going to bring her somewhere safe where she can't hurt anyone ever again I'll need your parents to think she's gone though."

"What about Sherlock?" Mycroft questioned.

"He's been traumatized enough by her already," Rudy answered. "It's best to change his memories. Rewrite them, in a way. He'll forget she ever existed and he'll tell himself a different story to fill in any gaps. People do it all the time and never notice. But we'll make sure there are trigger words in place, just to see how his memories are. We need them to stay repressed."

Mycroft nodded, though he didn't quite understand it all just yet. He would learn in time and keep an eye on his baby brother. Shortly after, Eurus was released and allowed to go home. But it didn't last long. Eurus was mentioning flames, fire, burning, and death even more as she returned and the country home soon caught fire. Most of the family made it out safely, but Eurus was never found. After some time, she was presumed dead. Her parents grieved and a memorial service was held. Sherlock wasn't there though, having endured so much trauma that his family thought it best he stay home with Uncle Rudy. Mycroft knew the truth, though he hid it well and pretended to mourn his sister.

Slowly, Mycroft and Rudy worked to 'edit' Sherlock's memories. Before long, he'd forgotten Eurus ever existed and even erased Victor Trevor. He believed Redbeard was simply put down due to old age. Jim was also forgotten. Using words like 'Redbeard' and 'East Wind', they made sure his memories stayed repressed for his own good. But that would all start to change when he got older.


	2. Meeting Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially just what happened during the episode where Eurus and Jim meet in her cell for Christmas. Skip it if you like, or don't!

_5 Years Earlier_

The massive helicopter landed on the island where Sherrinford Maximum Security Prison was housed, the blades eventually slowing as the passengers stepped out. One guard came around as Jim Moriarty himself stood on the beach in his dark blue suit and tie with his sunglasses on and earbuds in as usual. This time, he was dancing to 'I Want to Break Free' by Queen as his other guard came to his side. Once he'd decided he was finished, he stepped forward towards the Governor with his guards just one pace ahead of him and slightly in front of him.

"Mr. Moriarty," the man greeted with a nod of his balding head. 

"Big G," Jim answered, holding up his hand with the index and little finger raised. As the governor frowned, Jim lowered his hand and sighed. "Big G. Means 'Governor'. Street speak. I'm a bit down with the kids, you know? I'm relatable that way. D'you like my boys?" 

With the change in subject, he pointed to the man on his left and stepped behind him. 

"This one's got more stamina. But he's less caring in the afterglow," Jim sighed, pulling his sunglasses down a bit on his nose and looking at the back of the man's head. When the guard didn't react, he just sighed and moved once more.

"This way, please," the governor insisted, leading them inside and to a lift. Once inside, the guard Jim had mentioned before moved to the other side while the second guard stepped in front of his Boss, only stepping aside once the lift opened. Following the Governor down a corridor, he paused on a walkway and took a deep smell, gesturing to the area around them.

"Smell all that insane criminality," Jim sighed contentedly, grinning a bit. He began to walk once more, but a guard stopped him by holding out an arm. Without much of a reaction, Jim stopped and stuck his head into the hall, sniffing deeply once more. "Do you have cannibals here?" he asked.

"Yes," the Governor answered. 

"How many?" Jim pressed, clearly loving it.

"Three," came the response.

Jim nodded, grinning madly. "That's good," he commented. "People leave their bodies to science; I think cannibals would be so much more grateful." 

Before leaving, Jim let out a long whistle down the corridor, grinning when he got shouts and screams in response. The criminal just sighed contentedly before following the Governor down another set of stairs. He couldn't help glancing back at the guard though, watching as the man lowered his arm. As they entered an office, Mycroft was clearly waiting for them. He was looking out the window though, not looking to them as they approached the room. Jim's guards stayed outside the office while the Governor and the consulting criminal stepped inside, Jim removing his sunglasses. While Mycroft turned towards them, Jim's attention had strayed to the nativity scene set up beneath a television.

"Ahh, isn't that sweet?" he hummed, picking up several pieces one at a time. 

"Won't you sit down?" Mycroft suggested, having taken his seat behind the desk and nodding to the chair opposite himself.

Jim held one of the figures, chuckling softly. "I wrote my own version of the nativity when I was a child," he commented, glancing at Mycroft. " _The Hungry Donkey_. It was a bit gory, but if you're gonna put a baby in a manger, you're asking for trouble."

Without looking, he held out his hand and dropped the figurine back on the table. 

"You know what this place is, of course?" Mycroft asked. 

"Of course," Jim murmured, still fiddling with the figures on the table. "So am I under arrest again?"

Turning in his chair as Jim began walking behind him, Mycroft sighed and shook his head. "You remain a person of interest, but until you commit a verifiable crime, you are-I regret- at liberty," he answered.

By this point, Jim had entertained himself fully with the figurines and left them positioned closely around the manger with the baby Jesus. 

"Then why am I here?" Jim demanded.

"You're a Christmas present," Mycroft explained.

"Ah," Jim began to purr, stepping over towards the table on Mycroft's side and holding out his arms as he walked past. "How'd you want me?" he asked suggestively.

Mycroft, ignoring the comment, was clearly beginning to get frustrated. "There is, in this facility, a prisoner whose intellectual abilities are of occasional use to the British government," he continued. 

"What, for like, really difficult sums, long division, that sort of thing?" Jim mocked, furrowing his brow as he looked out the window.

"She predicted the exact dates of the last three terrorist attacks on the British mainland after an hour on Twitter," Mycroft explained, his tone firm. " _That_  sort of thing. In return, however, she requires treats. Last year, it was a violin."

"This year?" Jim pressed.

"Five minutes' unsupervised conversation ... with you," Mycroft sighed.

"Me?!" Jim replied with dramatic excitement and mock bashfulness. "With me?!"

"She has noticed your interest in the activities of my little brother," the elder Holmes commented. 

"So," Jim hummed, moving around to the other side of the table. "What's she got to do ... with Sherlock Holmes?" he asked, placing his hands on the table across from Mycroft. Slowly sitting down, he smirked and began yet another dramatic statement. "Whatever you're about to tell me," he hummed, not caring about the defeated look on Mycroft's face. "I already know it's gonna be..." He paused, mouth forming a wide O as he rested his left elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. "Awesome!" he finished.

Information was shared between them and finally Jim was brought to the cell holding Eurus Holmes. Left alone together, both were clearly aware that the cameras were still on and watching them. The pair stopped on either side of the glass as Mycroft and the Governor watched grimly. Jim shrugged and they stepped closer once more.

"I'm your Christmas present," Jim finally spoke softly before stepping closer and looking her over appraisingly. "So what's mine?"

Eurus glanced over at the camera and suddenly the footage changed to a cascade of static on Mycroft's end. Then Eurus leaned in and murmured, "Redbeard."

Jim frowned a little and they began moving closer. Then, beginning to understand what would happen, they both began to move together on either side of the glass, practically making love to one another.


	3. Christmas Presents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Big Brother's away, the psychopaths will play!

With the cameras disabled and the microphones off, Eurus grinned at her friend. It had been ages since they'd seen each other properly and they'd both changed quite a bit. But deep down, Eurus was still the same resentful little girl and Jim was still the friendless boy fascinated by her brothers. 

"Help me a bit here?" she asked, nodding to a section of the glass.

Jim nodded, stepping forward and doing as she instructed. The glass was lighter than expected and removed easily, set aside so they could talk face to face.

"You've done a bit of remodeling here then. I like it," Jim commented smugly. "Not every room can pull off the 'moving window' look."

Eurus rolled her eyes. "You always did like those sorts of jokes," she replied. "You asked what your Christmas present is. Now that darling Big Brother isn't listening in anymore, I can tell you. You remember Redbeard, of course."

Jim nodded. "Yes, of course. That dog Sherly used to play with all the time. Or were you referring to that boy? ..... Trevor, was it?"

"Both," she answered, a malicious gleam in her eyes. And she told him everything. Everything Mycroft had told her last Christmas at her request, about how Sherlock's memories were rewritten and he didn't remember Redbeard properly. She even caught up on what he was doing now.

"I'm not certain what exactly he remembers and what he doesn't. But I do know he's forgotten Victor Trevor. And he doesn't remember that you and I know each other. Mycroft won't tell him either, since he's not supposed to know this place exists," Eurus explained. 

"So? What do you want to do with it?" Jim questioned, raising a brow. Then he smirked. "Ah, I see."

Eurus nodded. "I can get out of here whenever I want now. It took a long time for me to get this far, but I managed and no one else knows. With a proper decoy and enough time, I could trap him here. And we'll see how brother dearest likes being locked away in a cage. But there's more to it than that. I don't just want to trap him. I want to tear him apart. And from what I hear, you'd like to --"

"Burn the heart out of him," Jim finished with a grin. "Perfect. We use the information he's forgotten and twist it into a new memory. Make him think it was all fake. That he's been lying to himself for years and that everything he holds dear never happened. It will drive him mad thinking that his own mind betrayed him. He's already back to drugs again. Everyone around him is going to believe he's actually mad and he'll lose everything. It's even better than last time! Better than the rooftop."

Eurus nodded once more. This plan would work. It would really destroy him. Tear apart everything he had, everything he held dear in his life. "Sherlock Holmes will be dead. Really and truly this time. There's no coming back from it. His heart will keep beating, but he'll be long gone," she replied. "There's plenty he's either forgotten or erased, like how Daddy was allergic to dogs but let him have one anyway because he begged and pleaded for so long. Daddy took allergy medication every day, but never let Sherlock see. He found out later, but erased it."

They worked out the details with the little time they were given before they replaced the glass. They would make Sherlock doubt everything: that Redbeard had even been a dog at all, that he'd been put down, everything. The cameras came back on shortly after as well as the microphones as Jim was led back out. Eurus turned her back on the doors once more and Jim strolled out confidently. He refused to tell anyone what they'd discussed. But when he left, he recorded a few choice messages and phrases that she'd asked of him so she could properly torment her brother. This was going to be perfect and nothing would stop them. Together, the psychopaths engineered Sherlock's worst nightmare.

* * *

 

Not long after, Eurus escaped. Jim provided a body double so that no one noticed she'd gone missing and Eurus headed for London. With a bit more help, she disguised herself multiple times to get close to both Sherlock and John Watson, whom she'd learned had become her brother's new best friend. Well, that just wouldn't do. And before long, she'd lured them back to Sherrinford and begun her plan as Sherlock entered her room.

"Did you bring it?" she asked, not turning to face him.

"I'm sorry?"

"My hairband. Did you bring it like I asked?" Eurus answered.

"I'm not one of the...." Sherlock hesitated. "I-I don't work here."

"My special hairband," she insisted. 

"I'm not one of your doctors," he replied more firmly.

Eurus sighed in exasperation. "The one I made you steal from Mummy," she clarified, finally turning to face him. "It was the last thing I said to you, remember, the day they took me away."

Sherlock shook his head. "No," he murmured.

"No?" she parroted.

"No," Sherlock replied. "We've spoken since then. You came round to my flat a few weeks back. You pretended to be a woman called Faith Smith. We had chips."

"Does that mean you _didn't_ bring my hairband?" she pouted.

"How did you manage to get out of this place?" he asked. "How did you do that?"

"Easy. Look at me," Eurus insisted.

"I am looking at you," her brother replied.

"You can't see it, can you? You try and try but you just can't see. You can't look," she sighed.

"See what?" 

Eurus held out the violin. "What do you think?"

"Beautiful," he answered without looking at the instrument.

"You're not looking at it," she told him. 

Sherlock swallowed, briefly closing his eyes. "I meant your playing," he corrected.

"Oh, the music," she answered simply, lowering the instrument and turning it to look at the front. "I never really know if it's beautiful or not; just if it's right."

"Often they're the same thing," Sherlock replied.

"If they're not always the same thing, what's the point in beauty?" Eurus demanded, looking at him. She turned the violin again to face Sherlock. "Look at the violin."

"I need to know how you escaped," Sherlock insisted, needing to get an answer out of her for his own satisfaction.

Eurus was having none of it. "Look at the violin," she demanded more firmly. 

Sherlock sighed and focused on the instrument. "It's a Stradivarius," he commented.

"It's a gift," Eurus corrected.

"Who from?" he questioned.

"Me," came the answer as Eurus approached a hatch by the glass and put the violin inside, closing it and allowing Sherlock to retrieve it.

"Why?" he asked as he returned to his spot with the violin in hand.

"You play, don't you?"

"How did  _you_ know?"

"How did I know?" Eurus scoffed. "I taught you, don't you remember? How can you not remember that?"

"Eurus.....I don't remember you at all," he admitted.

Eurus smiled slightly. "Interesting....Mycroft told me you'd rewritten your memories. He didn't tell me you'd written me out completely."

"What do you mean 'rewritten'?" he asked as she watched him intensely.

"You still don't know about Redbeard, do you?" she hummed, then grinned as he appeared to become more grim. "Oh, this is going to be a good day. But first....play for me."

"I need to know how you got out of here," Sherlock tried again.

"You know already. Look at me. Look and play," she insisted. 

Sherlock sighed and lifted the instrument, beginning to play Bach's Sonata No. 1 in G minor. He'd barely gotten a few notes in when he was interrupted.

"No, not Bach; you clearly don't understand it. Play you," she demanded.

"Me?" Sherlock echoed.

" _You_ ," Eurus instructed.

Sherlock hesitated, then began again, this time playing the lament he'd written after the disappearance of The Woman. Irene Adler. Once more, he'd only played a few notes before another comment came.

"Oh! Have you had sex?"

"Why do you ask?" he replied, continuing to play.

"The music," she clarified. " _I've_ had sex."

"How?"

"One of the nurses got careless," Eurus explained, hardly sounding like she thought it mattered. "I liked it. Messy though. People are so breakable."

"I take it he didn't consent," Sherlock commented without stopping his music.

"He?"

"She?" Sherlock asked.

"Afraid I didn't notice in the heat of the moment and afterwards....well, you couldn't really tell," she answered. "Is that vibrato, or is your hand shaking?"

Sherlock finished the note and stopped playing. Eurus just gave a half smile.

"So clearly you remember me," Sherlock commented.

"I remember everything," Eurus told him. "Every single thing. You just need a big enough hard drive."

There was a sudden buzz in his earpiece and John began trying to get him out. But Sherlock tore it from his ear and shoved it into his trouser pocket.

"Let's continue," Eurus hummed. "Did they tell you to keep three feet from the glass?"

"Yes."

"Be naughty. Step closer."

"Why?"

"Do it. Step closer."

"Tell me what you remember," Sherlock tried again.

"You, me, and Mycroft," Eurus told him, then sighed. "Mycroft was quite clever. He could understand things if you went a bit slow. But you...you were my favorite."

They began stepping slowly closer to one another.

"Why was I your favorite?"

Eurus grinned. " 'Cause I could make you laugh. I  _loved_ it when you laughed. Once I made you laugh all night. I thought you were going to burst."

Sherlock smiled, beginning to think his sister wasn't so bad as he'd thought originally.

"I was so happy. Then Mummy and Daddy had to stop me, of course," she sighed.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, turns out I got it wrong. Apparently, you were screaming," she commented.

"Why was I screaming?"

And suddenly, something came back. A soft whimpering in the back of his mind, a nagging feeling as the memory resurfaced. And suddenly he knew.

"Redbeard," he whispered. "I remember Redbeard."

"Do you now?" she asked.

"Tell me what I don't know," he insisted.

"Touch the glass."

Sherlock frowned, stopping just a step away from the glass.

"Redbeard was my dog," he told her. "I know what happened to Redbeard."

"Oh, Sherlock," she sighed condescendingly. "You know nothing. Touch the glass and I'll tell you the truth." Raising her arm, she added, "I'll touch it too, if you're scared."

Sherlock watched her cautiously, his own fingers curling as he debated on what to do next. Should he touch the glass? Should he take the chance? Could he stand not knowing if he didn't?

"You think it's a trick," she murmured. "You look so...unsure. You're not used to being unsure, are you?"

"It's more common than you'd think," he admitted.

"Look at you," she hummed as he raised his hand to mirror hers. "The man who sees through everything...is exactly the man who doesn't notice....when there's nothing to see through."

Suddenly their hands were linked and Sherlock's eyes met hers as he breathed shakily.

"Do you see how it was done?" she asked. "I know you like explanations."

"Signs. You suspended the signs," Sherlock answered.

"And my voice? Throat mic. Puts me through the speakers," she added, the mic shutting off. "Don't you think it's clever? Simple, but clever?"

"Transparent," Sherlock murmured shakily.

"Well you do keep asking me how I got out of here," she pointed out. "Like this."

Suddenly, she took a deep breath and slammed her arms against his neck, strangling him and shrieking as they fell backwards. 

"Get in here, all of you! Stop me killing him!" she shouted and guards came in. "Oh, not now. Stop me in a minute," she insisted before continuing to scream.

Outside the cell, an alarm was going off and an American voice came over the intercom.

"Red Alert! Red Alert! Big bouncy red alert!" it called. 

John rushed up the stairs as the Governor called after him. Mycroft followed.

"Klingons attacking lower decks!" the voice continued. "Also cowboys in black hats and Darth Vader!"

Mycroft stopped then as John continued up the stairs. The elder Holmes listened, recognizing the voice. It was James Moriarty.

"Don't be alarmed," the voice insisted. " _I'm_ here now!  _I'm_ here now!"

John slowed as he began to recognize it as well. Then came the chilling confirmation.

"Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Miss me? Miss me?" The phrase continued to echo as Moriarty's face appeared on the screens staring into the camera. John and Mycroft were attacked and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual dialogue from the scripts is taken from here: https://arianedevere.livejournal.com/91118.html


End file.
